


Introduction to Linguistics

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: AoS College AU [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, TA/Student Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye realizes she might’ve messed up big time, and hatches a plan to bang both of her TAs at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Introduction to Linguistics

Skye makes the mistake of sitting in the front row.  It’s a habit she took up a month or so ago, when Ward had told her he liked seeing her face light up his classroom.  Now, he looks less like someone’s turned on a light and more like he’d rather crawl into a hole and die.  Skye shares his sentiment, but she doubt that helps.  Ward clears his throat loudly and scribbles _POP QUIZ_ onto the board.  Everyone groans.

“Shouldn’t be a surprise by now, guys,” Ward tells the class.  He’s very pointedly staring at a spot in the back of the classroom.  He hasn’t looked at Skye, not even his normal glances.  She sinks deeper into her seat.  Ward scoops a pile of quizzes out of his bag, unceremoniously handing them off in stacks at the end of each row.  Normally, he starts on Skye’s side of the room.  Not today, apparently.  It’s not the first time Ward’s given a pop quiz.  It’s the first time she’s never known a single answer.

“Mr. Ward?” Skye asks, looking up from her desk.  He looks startled, like he thought they’d never be speaking again.  He coughs.

“Yes?” his voice cracks.

“We haven’t covered any of this in class,” Skye tells him, “so I don’t really think it’s fair to be testing us on it.”  A few students mumble in agreement.

“Did you do the homework, Skye?” Ward asks.  The smile he gives her is bitter and mocking.  “You should’ve had plenty of time this weekend to do the readings.”  She narrows her eyes into a glare.

“Excuse me,” Skye seethes, grabbing her bag off the floor and rising from her desk, “I just got my period.”  His face falls.  

“Skye you can’t-” he begins, and she choses to ignore him, storming past him and out of the classroom.

 

\--

 

Jemma orders another round of beers, and Skye doubts it’s going to do her any good.

“He wouldn’t even look at me,” Skye says, dully leaning against her hand.  “It was like the parking lot all over again.”  Jemma pulls Skye’s empty bottle out of her free hand, replacing it with a new one.  Skye takes a long sip.

“Well maybe it’s better this way,” Jemma offers, “now you can just be with Miles.  You do like Miles, don’t you?”

“I guess,” Skye says, “I like them both.  Equally.”

“I liked Ward more,” Fitz interjects.  Skye wonders how he can be so chipper on his sixth beer.

“You never met him,” Skye tells him.

“Yes, but his prick was the nicer one,” Fitz replies, “it was so neat looking.  Is he single now?”

“Fitz!” Jemma scolds.  Normally, Skye would laugh.  She decides it’s better to take another swig.

“I’d let you watch, Jemma,” Fitz says sweetly.  Jemma beams at him.

“Aw, Fitz,” she coos.

“Guys,” Skye says, “can you at least wait until the body’s fucking cold?”  Jemma nods.

“She’s right,” Jemma says, pointing an accusing finger at Fitz.  “Keep off him until Skye says it’s okay.”

“Not even remotely what I meant,” Skye says.  Jemma and Fitz ignore her.  “Guys, what the hell am I going to do?”  Jemma takes to frowning.

“I mean, if I knew a guy with a prick like that,” Fitz says, “I wouldn’t just give so easily.  But that’s me.”

“Helpful, Fitz,” Jemma says.  Skye gestures dumbly with her beer bottle.

“Maybe he’s got a point,” Skye says.  “Like, who is he to dump me?  Look at me!  I’m fucking fantastic.  I rocked his goddamn world!”

“You’re ranting,” Jemma says.  Fitz holds up his hand.

“Let her finish,” Fitz says.  “I want to see where she goes with this.”

“He doesn’t get to break up with me.  He’s not even my fucking boyfriend.” Skye slams her free palm against the table, as if to make a point.

“Yeah!” Fitz agrees, and Jemma shoots him a warning glance.

“He’s going to beg for it back when I’m done with him,” Skye declares.

“Wait, what?” Jemma says.  “You have Miles!”

“It’s the twenty first century, Jemma,” Skye tells her, “one guy is so last season.”

“You don’t even know what that means!” Jemma protests.  “You wear flannel!”

“I agree with her,” Fitz says, “I fully think we should add a third party, Jemma.”

“Wait,” Skye says, “what the hell are you two talking about?”

“Nothing!” they say at the same time.  Jemma sighs in resignation.

“Are you at least going to run this by Miles?” Jemma asks.  

Skye shrugs. “Eh, maybe?” Skye says.  It takes a moment, but her eyes widen in excitement.  “The devil’s threesome,” Skye hisses.

“That’s a leap,” Jemma points out.

“Not really,” Skye says.

“I think it’s bloody brilliant,” Fitz adds.  “Tell us how it goes.  Take pictures.”

“Please don’t catch anything,” Jemma says.  Skye gives a wry smile for the first time all evening.

“No need to be jealous,” Skye replies.  

Jemma shakes her head. “You’re a mess,” Jemma says.  “You keep me up at night.”

“Me as well,” Fitz adds, “but probably for different reasons.”

 

\--

 

There is no best time to ask Miles if he’s cool with her fucking another dude; but Skye figures post him being in her ass is probably works well enough.  Miles lays down beside her, still damp from his post-fucking shower.  Skye rolls over, burying her head against the crook of his neck.  His beard scratches at her head.

“Hey, Miles?” she asks.  His fingers trace along the small of her back.

“Hm?” he replies.  She sucks in a breath through her nose.  He smells clean.  Nothing fancy.  Just plain soap.

“Are we like,” she pauses, then sighs, “are we monogamous?”  It comes out unsure.  She misses her liquid courage.

Miles is laughing.  His chest shakes against her.

“I guess?” Miles says.  “Why, are you fucking other guys?”  She tenses, and he must feel it.  He lets out a low whistle.  

“Dirty girl,” he says.  His tone is fond.  Interestingly so.

“You sound turned on,” Skye says.  His hands grab her ass.  He’s slipping a finger under her underwear.

“Maybe,” he says.

“Didn’t know you liked boys,” Skye tells him.  Miles fingers circle around her slit, and she lets out a frustrated huff.

“I’m what you’d call heteroflexible,” Miles tells her.  “So tell me, who is it?”

“If I tell you,” Skye says, squirming, “will you put that finger to good use?”  He rubs her clit, softly, but in just the right spot to make her whimper.

“Maybe,” Miles replies.  “Give me a name.”

“Grant Ward,” Skye whispers.  Miles presses a little harder, and she spreads her legs on instinct.

“Slut,” Miles tells her.  He moves in to suck on her collarbone.  His other hand possessively rests on her thigh, keeping her hips pinned to the mattress.  “Slutty, slutty girl.”  She groans.  

“Bring him over,” Miles tells her, “I’ll watch him fuck you into the bed.”  Two of Miles’ long fingers slip inside her.  She calls out his name in a breathless whisper.

 

\--

 

Skye can feel the curious gazes of her classmates when she returns to recitation, like she’s supposed to be upset that she embarrassed Mr. Ward.  Please.  If she lived her life trying not to embarrass Mr. Ward, she’d never leave the house.  He’s missing from the classroom, and she’s right on time.  He’s usually in the front of the room by now, going over his lesson plans or checking his phone.  This can only mean that he’s running late.  That’s not a good sign.  Skye haphazardly adjusts her top.  She doesn’t really believe in “daywear” and “nightwear,” despite Jemma’s insistence that she should.    Sure, her top is tiny, but that doesn’t mean she can’t wear it to class.  She’s been wearing it all day, and everything has been going smoothly, save for the fact that she needs to keep pulling it down.  A crop top was a bad choice for all day wear.  Ward better appreciate it, is what she’s saying.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ward announces, lumbering into the classroom with his usual lanky grace.  He almost trips over a stray backpack.  Skye suppresses a giggle, but he must hear her, because his eyes find her in a heartbeat.  Then they find her boobs, and stay stuck there.  So maybe she’d taken her bra off in the bathroom before Ward’s class.  She played to win.  She taps her pen idly on her desk.

“Mr. Ward?” Someone asks.  He straightens up, clears his throat, and slams his bag onto the small table in the front of the room.

“I have your quizzes,” Ward says.  “The scores were high, for the most part.”  He choses to look at Skye during that last part, like he’s going to guilt her.  She leans forward in her seat.  His eyes dart back to the class.

“You guys keep stumbling with Rs, though,” Ward says.  “I suppose you could say that you guys _aren’t_ ready.”  Skye bursts into laughter, despite herself.  She’s the only one who does laugh, save for Ward chucking to himself.  For a moment, he catches her eyes, and she’s still smiling, and it’s almost like nothing has changed.

“Mr. Ward?” someone in the back row asks, “are we going to go over the exam, or...”  Ward snaps back into focus.  Skye almost gets whiplash.

“Of course,” Ward says.  Skye frowns to herself.  “What question did you have a problem with?”

“Number seven,” the student in the back says.  Ward pulls a marker from his back pocket.

“That was a tricky one,” Ward admits, “let’s discuss.”  Skye crosses and uncrosses her legs in frustration.  If she could just get his attention again, she’d have him on his knees in no time.  Not literally.  Ward is scribbling something on the board.  Skye’s only half paying attention.  She’s taken to absent-mindedly chewing on her pen.

“Now,” Ward says, turning back to the class, “what you need to do take the word and-” he falters, his voice failing him.  Skye looks up from her desk, and realizes that he’s looking straight at her.  With her pen in her mouth.  She pulls the pen out, slowly, and flicks her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.  Then she puts the pen back in, chewing more carefully this time.  Ward gulps.

“The root of the word,” Ward says, pulling his eyes away from her with distress written into his features, “you need to find the root of the word.”  Skye grins to herself. 

 

“Mr. Ward?” Skye asks, as students file out of the classroom.  Ward clears his throat.

“Yes, Skye?” he asks.  She watches him mentally count the students walking out of the classroom.  She tosses her hair over her shoulder.

“I wanted to talk to you about making up that quiz,” Skye says.  The last student files out of the classroom.  Ward shuts the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ward demands.  Skye resists the urge to shrink away.

“I’m asking if I can make up a quiz,” Skye says, sweetly.  She’s smiling at him, hoping to win him over with her bright and shiny attitude.

“I can’t offer you a makeup,” Ward says. “You chose not to take that quiz.” 

“Can I make it up some other way?” She asks.  She closes in on him, places her hand in the center of his chest.  She idly traces the line of his pecs with her finger.  He catches her wrist and pulls her hand away.

“Are you out of your mind?” Ward hisses, “We’re in a classroom!”  He takes a hefty step back.  “And we-we broke up!”

“We were never dating,” Skye tells him, like it’s obvious, “so how could we possibly have broken up?”

“You are,” he sucks in an angry breath, “Are you even wearing a bra?”  Skye suddenly feels aware of how little she’s wearing, of the way the cotton of her shirt brushes against her nipples.  She nervously places an arm across her chest.

“Skye,” Ward pleads, “please don’t make that face, I’m just saying that-”

“Do you still want me?” Skye asks him.  She meets his eyes without flinching.  “As a fuckbuddy.  As a girlfriend.  Do you still want me?”

Ward sucks in a breath through his teeth.  She looks upwards, catches his gaze through her lashes.

“Yes,” Ward admits, “but-” Skye pulls him in for a kiss, fierce and sudden.  He pulls her back, keeping his palms firmly pressed against her bony shoulders.

“No, Skye,” Ward says, “absolutely not.”  He’s flushed, all up his neck, in splotches under his glasses.

“You’re going to come crawling back to me,” Skye says, “I promise you will come back to me, and we’ll make all of this better.”

“Please leave,” Ward tells her.  Her hands are still wrapped around the collar of his shirt.  “We’re in a classroom.”

“You’ll come around,” Skye says.  Her fingers trace down his arms.  He shudders, despite himself.  

“I’ll see you, Mr. Ward,” Skye says, snapping his name in her mouth.  It presses against his skin.  He watches her tongue trace along her teeth.

“Goodnight, Skye,” he says.  “Sorry about the quiz.”  He winces at the sound of her laugh.

 

\--

 

Skye’s been carrying a sweater around with her all day, to throw over her lap when she’s sitting down.  Her skirt is tiny, and it hikes up her thighs the second her butt so much as looks at a chair.  Naturally, when she gets to Ward’s class, she tosses her sweater over the back of her seat.  Ward’s in his normal spot-front of the room, going through class notes.  He doesn’t even notice her come in.  Skye finds herself hoping that his lateness was just a one time mistake.  It had made her feel pretty guilty, and she hates feeling guilty.  Which maybe meant she should avoid situations that would cause guilt, but hey, she wasn’t perfect.

Ward hasn’t looked her way yet; he’s too busy shuffling through class notes.  She’s not even sure he noticed her come in.  He will notice her, of course.  A good show is always worth the wait.

“So, I figured we’d go over some uncommon roots today,” Ward begins, eyes flicking up to the class.  Skye shifts in her seat, spreading her thighs apart just wide enough to flash her underwear to Ward.  He’s not looking right at her, but she’s close enough to his line of sight that he’ll notice.  He clears his throat, and Skye moves her legs a little farther apart.  She’d picked floral underwear with a hot pink trim.  Eye catching, to say the least.

“And, um,” Ward says, “well, if you guys just turned to chapter four in your books.  Um.”  His eyes are on her, and she knows her little floral panties must be his entire world, right now.  She quickly brings her legs back together.  He blinks fast, like he’s trying to clear his head.  His eyes go somewhere further back in the classroom, away from Skye and her long, tanned legs.

“Did everyone do the reading?” Ward asks, and he makes the mistake of looking back in Skye’s direction.  It’s more on instinct that anything else, since she very rarely does the reading, and he knows it, and she knows it.  Skye traces her nails up her thigh.   She flashes him again, this time when she crosses her legs.  She wiggles in her seat, trying to get comfortable.  It’s hard, in this skirt.  It’s a little to tight for her to properlysit with her legs crossed, so she’s back to sitting with her knees spread apart, and her underwear fully on display.

 

She grinds down into her desk chair.  Just once.

 

Ward looks like the air has left the room.  He takes off his glasses, shuts his eyes.  He cleans the lenses with his sleeve, taking several quick breaths.  His lips are mouthing something, and it takes Skye a second to realize he’s trying to count backwards from ten.  Class has barely started, and she’s already got him on overdrive.  Skye grins to herself.  She’s so good at this.

 

“Mr. Ward?” Skye asks sweetly, closing her legs and straightening in her seat, “is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replies, in a quick swish.  “Everything is fine, Skye.  If you could read for the class?”

“Of course,” Skye says.  Her knees part, just a little.  Her hair falls partially over her face, as she skims through the book.  She shifts.  Lifts her hips a little.

“Chapter four,” Skye begins.  She can her Ward counting again.

 

Ward lasts through an hour of Skye not so subtly flashing him, which is impressive in and of itself.  He mutters something about his cat being sick, shoves his book into his backpack, and practically runs out of the classroom.  Skye gives him a grin that can only be described as hungry.

 

She might’ve broken him.

\--

 

Sometime around midnight, Skye hears a heavy knock at her door.  Miles is stroking her leg as they sit cuddled on the couch, some old horror movie blaring on the TV.

“Did you order food?” Skye asks.  Miles shakes his head.

“Did you?” Miles says.  

Skye purses her lips.  “I think I know who it is.”  She rises from the couch, already missing the warmth of Miles next to her.  Another series of knocks, more urgent this time.

“Coming!” Skye yells.  “Turn down the TV,” she tells Miles.  He complies.  She can feel his eyes at her back.  She slides the deadbolt out of place, clicks the locks.  She pulls the door in with an eager tug.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” Ward says.  He’s holding her shoes in one hand, and has the other shoved into his pocket.

“Are those my-”

“From the parking lot.  Yeah,” Ward says.  “I found them for you.”  Skye’s grinning at him.

“Was it the panties?” she teases.  He shuffles awkwardly in the doorway.

“It was everything,” he admits. “I have a very hard time staying away from you.”  She flings her arms around him and kisses him.  He responds in kind, wrapping his arms around her waist.  The heels of her shoes are poking into her back, but she barely minds.  Ward carries Skye back her apartment.  He gasps each time their lips part, and then dives back in, fiercer each time.  Skye runs her hands through his hair.

 

Miles is laughing on the couch.  Ward breaks the kiss.  Skye takes this as her chance to shut the door, while Ward is distracted by the half naked man on Skye’s couch.

“Skye?” Ward asks.  His voice cracks.  Miles moves off the couch.  He approaches Ward with a grin, placing a friendly hand on Ward’s strong arm.

“Grant Ward,” Miles says, “welcome to the party.”


End file.
